Page 9 of Air Force One (Miranda Chase #16)
Being the daughter of two Marine Corps officers, Sarah also knew how to choose her priorities and called out orders to Kali as she moved. “If Miranda Chase is en route, make sure they let her in. And, no, I don’t care if we’ve crashed the White House or not—get her inside.”
If she was the last person to talk to Air Force One, Sarah wanted to wring out every detail she could extract.
She barely heard when Kali reported that Air Force One had declared an emergency. No shit, Sherlock.
That took care of the civilian government, not the military.
“Go to DEFCON 4. Get General Elizabeth Gray-Nason on the line ASAP.” Elizabeth had hyphenated her last name at Sarah’s suggestion, because Sarah was tired of mixing up communications between the two General Nason’s. “Better yet, get her here as well. I need her advice on whether we go to DEFCON 3.”
Sarah had to stop and double check her memory that she got it right. Why couldn’t they have numbered COGCON and the military’s Defense Readiness Condition with the same scale?
She waved Kali away and stepped into the President’s PEOC office. There was no time for slow approaches or personal fears now; she dropped into the President’s chair, waved for Felicia to close the door, and tapped the intercom key. “Get me a direct line to Air Force One. Preferably the President.”
The Marine Corps officers that the National Security Council placed to monitor the Situation Room and the PEOC swung into action.
While she waited she stared at the blank white walls of the rectangular room.
Her desk sat at one end, facing a small group of chairs and a bank of monitors.
In the middle stood a conference table with ten chairs and at the far end, a podium with the Presidential seal on it.
Behind it was a dark blue velvet curtain and in front a pair of video cameras for addressing the nation. She definitely wouldn’t be doing that.
Sarah managed not to cry out with relief when she heard Roy Cole’s voice sound over the phone less than thirty seconds later. “In my chair yet, Sarah?”
“Not the one upstairs, but I am in PEOC. It’s not as comfortable as I’d imagined. But it’s very good to hear your voice.”
“You’re in the hot seat; never let it become too comfortable and you’ll do okay. Sadly, there’s a fair chance that it’s yours now.”
“But—”
“Four-engine failure. You need to get Miranda Chase to—”
“Apparently General Nason already took care of that.”
“She’s an easy woman to doubt. Take my advice—don’t.”
Sarah had barely met the woman other than at yesterday’s wedding.
They’d only worked together tangentially, except for once, and that had lasted under thirty minutes—four years ago.
That scattered her thoughts in several directions.
One of Sarah’s strengths was processing all those different paths simultaneously—or close enough that no one had been able to prove to her satisfaction that she did otherwise.
The President had chosen to give Miranda and Andi the first White House wedding in eighteen years. Okay, Miranda Chase needed listening to, at least until Sarah could make up her own mind about the woman’s reliability.
An attack? Or a maintenance issue? Assume the worst, hope for the best, and shoot down the middle. She needed to get the military moving, at least at the command level, so she had to keep this short.
“I assume that you’re attempting to return to the coast, Roy?”
“So I’m told. It’s only been five minutes, but I’m told we won’t make it.”
“I’ll make sure a rescue team is headed your way.” She waved a hand at Felicia, who sat at the conference table, picked up another line, and began issuing orders.
She heard Felicia say, “Give them no reason, Admiral, we need to keep it the hell off CNN. Just get their asses moving.”
Felicia gave her a helpless look and held out the phone in her direction.
Sarah didn’t even bother taking it. Instead she half shouted, “Do it, Admiral. On my authority as Vice President and—” she swallowed hard “—acting President Sarah Feldman.”
Felicia listened for a moment, nodded, and hung up. Then she dialed again to make sure a couple of escort jets were scrambled in Air Force One’s direction.
Sarah turned her attention back to the President.
Roy Cole actually had the wherewithal to laugh briefly. “You’ll do great, Sarah. Maybe we’ll get a Miracle on the Hudson moment.”
She didn’t manage to join in his laugh. Captain Sullenberger had managed to ease an Airbus A320 down on the perfectly calm surface of the Hudson River after a bird strike had killed both his engines.
He was also a glider pilot and truly had performed a modern miracle, saving every single life.
Along with every other New Yorker, she’d been transfixed by the coverage for hours—which had included numerous experts saying that what he’d done was technically impossible.
Sarah tapped the mute key and selected the intercom again. “Get me the current sea state off the Delaware coast.”
The Marine responded immediately, which meant he’d been monitoring the call.
“It’s a Four, ma’am.” This time she’d take the efficiency over any privacy concerns.
From the family vacations of her youth out to Montauk at the tip of Long Island, she knew exactly what that meant.
Sea State 4 translated as two-meter-high waves ready to catch a wing tip and shatter a 747.
She released the intercom and unmuted the line to Air Force One. “We’ll hope for the best, Mr. President.”
“Plan for the worst and shoot down the middle, as you always say. I’ll gladly take the middle on this.”
“Me too, Mr. President. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes, Sarah Feldman. Trust your people, but moreover, trust your gut. Goodbye.”
It took her a moment to manage, “Goodbye, Roy.”
But he’d already hung up the phone.